


a sliver to call mine

by sunflashes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, chants MORE LOUISE MORE LOUISE, the missed connection au you didn't know you wanted, will be explicit soon guaranteed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflashes/pseuds/sunflashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<b>Missed connection: mismatched socks on the Jubilee line - m4m</b></p><p>You had mismatched socks and a brightly coloured sweatshirt on. It was raining."</p><p>In which Dan and Phil are strangers on the Underground who meet through a Craigslist Missed Connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it's the ocean; it's the boys

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to [ victoria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/honorthevanishing) for betaing and [asher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/asherisnotfunny) for dragging me into phan hell.
> 
> updates should be weekly or perhaps even slightly more frequent. title from make you better by the decemberists

It’s raining, but it’s never really not raining in England, so Dan has his umbrella close to his body to shield him from the gusts of wet wind. A car in the kerb lane sends water up in an arc onto the pavement and Dan jumps back. 

“Fucking hell!” He mutters harshly to himself as he checks his legs for evidence of the car’s carelessness. On not discovering any further damp patches, he continues on his way. Dan rounds the corner sharply and follows the line of people flooding into the Tube station as the rainwater pours into storm drains on the street, each flow a mirror of the other. He puts away his umbrella and pulls out his Special Olympics Oyster card as he rides the escalator down into Baker Street Station among the afternoon rush. He walks to the Jubilee line with his hands in his pockets, trying to warm them a little as fall rain is just a little less bloody pleasant than a refreshing summer storm. 

The platform is full of people, but Dan still manages to snag a seat on the train without embarrassing himself or leaving any elderly people or pregnant women standing. He smiles softly at this little victory and pulls out his phone to keep him entertained on the ride back to his flat. It’s then that he notices a man sitting on the opposite side of the train car. He has cheekbones for days and arresting blue eyes. The man flicks his eyes up Dan’s body, so briefly that Dan can’t really decide if it happened or if he just wishes it had. Regardless, Dan immediately loses all coordination and nearly drops his phone at the thought that another human being, much less one as attractive as this one, might find him worth a look. The guy is definitely looking now, as Dan has just made a fool of himself on the bloody Tube, and oh god he’s smiling fondly and Dan does his best to avoid looking at him directly for fear of spontaneous combustion. He pans his eyes downward to foot level and he can see, in the gap between the man’s skinny jeans and his shoes, that he’s wearing two violently mismatched, brightly coloured socks. In combination with his brightly coloured hoodie, Dan doesn’t know whether this is endearing or awful, so he settles on a mixture of the two. 

Their eyes meet and Dan can feel his cheeks heat up. He berates himself internally for engaging in this cliche behaviour as he tries to cast his gaze anywhere else. The adverts plastered along the train’s ceiling are actually stunningly fucking boring, and his eyes flicker along them without even reading them as the train shudders to a halt at the next station. When it jerks into motion again, he steals a glance at the man, who is fumbling for what Dan assumes is his phone in his pocket. He takes a moment to really look at him while the man’s attention is engaged elsewhere, and he really likes what he sees. He opens his mouth, not really knowing what he’s going to say or do, heart racing, and the name of his stop crackles over the speaker in the train ceiling. Dan shuts his mouth immediately, deciding that the universe intervened to stop him making contact for a reason. He stands and slides a little bit toward the door of the car as the floor under his feet is slick with rainwater. He exits the train unceremoniously, without looking back, and takes the escalator up to street level where it’s still pouring. Of course. 

\---

Dan unlocks the door to his flat after a short but surprisingly miserable walk from the Tube station. He feels like shit and regrets pretty much everything at this point. Most of the feeling is due to actually having to leave the house today and brave the epitomic, hellish English rain, but a surprising amount of it follows his decision not to say anything to the enigmatic Tube stranger. He can’t disabuse himself of the feeling that there was something unresolved with that interaction--he can’t remember the last time he felt the urge to actually speak to someone on public transportation. 

As he dumps his umbrella and messenger bag on one of the multicoloured chairs surrounding his dining table, he groans loudly. He forgot to go to fucking Tesco on his way home. 

“Chinese takeout it is!” Dan exclaims to his empty dining nook. Thunder cracks outside. “Better make it delivery.” 

He orders the food over Seamless to avoid the phone call he doesn’t have the emotional energy for. When the Szechuan chicken arrives, it’s hot and delicious. It pairs nicely with a cold, crisp pint. The fried rice is freshly made and the eggroll is just the right crispy consistency that it still crackles when Dan bites into it, even after it’s been dipped in duck sauce. He lets out a satisfied little noise and immediately tries to stifle it. It occurs to him that there’s no one there to overhear him and that makes him laugh. 

“I need friends,” Dan says aloud, continuing the embarrassing streak of alone behaviour. He finishes his last bite of egg roll and wipes his hands before pulling his laptop towards him. He swigs his beer and pulls up Reddit. One of the top posts is about Craigslist fails and as Dan scrolls through it, a thought strikes him. 

In an unusually brazen display, Dan smiles and mutters “fuck it.” He opens a new tab of Chrome, pulls up London’s Missed Connections, and begins to type.


	2. you take your time, young lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this is you, this is my second-chance hello.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeeeee, updated within 24 hours. chapter title from young lion by vampire weekend
> 
> comments? questions? drop me a line here or on [tumblr](http://newyorkeyeschicagothighs.tumblr.com/ask)

**Missed connection: mismatched socks on the Jubilee line - m4m**

 

You had mismatched socks and a brightly coloured sweatshirt on. It was raining. You were pretending not to be cold. I was the guy in all black with fringe, also pretending. I think you knew that. Everyone who posts one of these fucking things always says “this is a long shot” but this _really_ is, considering I was too socially awkward to even attempt talking to you. You did smile at me, though. As if i could forget. Because you’re probably never going to read this, there was something about you that reminds me of summer and the sea. idk i don’t know you i’m sorry

 

 

  * do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers




 

post id: 5220593092

 

\---

 

Dan has the opposite of a green thumb. He wonders if plants actively start to wither as soon as he touches them or if they wait a few days just to spare him the embarrassment. This hasn’t stopped him from buying several adorable succulents because #aesthetic, but it probably should have.

 

He throws the latest one out, sour because he actually tried this time instead of forgetting it on a baking hot windowsill in the summer. Because fall is slowly wicking the warmth from London, Dan had specifically put it on the kitchen table, one of the few places in his entire apartment where it wouldn’t catch any window draughts. He watered it according to some detailed internet instructions but it didn’t matter; the fucking thing just shrivelled up anyway. The light from the dining room window falls perfectly over the orange chair and onto where the plant’s corpse had been as Dan flops dejectedly onto his couch. He'd bought himself that one shortly after his 21st birthday and it was already dead. To prevent further moping, he turns on the TV and ends up getting sucked into Tumblr for a few hours as he catches up on American Horror Story. It’s a Saturday and he can afford to waste the time.

 

Dan clicks the lock button on his phone and the time reads 4:15pm. He knows he should call Chris or PJ and see if they want to go to the pub or maybe to Nando’s but he’s comfortable on his couch and there’s a blanket within arm’s reach. Besides, they might bring other people and then Dan would be stuck awkwardly smiling along to other people’s conversation while desperately trying to recall where he’s met them before and trying not to be That Asshole and ask what their name is again. That sounds not only unappealing, but also frankly awful, so Dan doesn’t text either of his friends. Not that it matters; no one has texted him all day.

 

He decides to order pizza instead of cook something, which would require being inventive with the limited cast of characters his refrigerator and cabinets have to offer. This lack of sustenance is of course due to yet another day of forgetting his Tesco outing. He doesn’t want to call the pizza place; he fucking hates phone calls because he mumbles, so he puts it off for another hour until it’s a reasonable, dinner-esque time.

 

Dan does mumble, and the pizza delivery man asks him to repeat himself about seven times. He finally hangs up, mortified, and retrieves his wallet from his bedroom while he waits. The pizza arrives very promptly and Dan pays with a nod, muttering “keep the change.” The guy obviously doesn’t hear him, because he reaches into his pocket like he’s going to give Dan money back. Dan panics and shuts the door in his face. _He may think I’m a complete twat, but least he’ll keep the change_ , Dan thinks, fighting the impulse to cringe at his own idiocy as he walks back to his living room.

 

He eats the pizza straight out of the box because why wash a plate, honestly. He’s already sunk to the level of not leaving the house--this isn’t that far a stretch. When he’s done eating, he actually does the Functional Human task of taking the pizza into the kitchen and putting it into plastic bags for the fridge. He slides the pizza onto a mostly-empty shelf and returns to the couch.

 

Dan pulls his laptop onto his stomach and clicks ‘new tab’ in Chrome. He heads to Gmail to check the status of an eBay auction for a GameCube and sits in silence, heart racing and staring at what he did not expect to be there: a response to his missed connection.

 

**Re: Missed connection: mismatched socks on the Jubilee line - m4m**

 

Hey! I was in fact wearing mismatched socks on the Jubilee line the other day. If this is the wrong person, I’m really sorry and feel free to disregard this completely. If this is you, well, here you go.

 

I can’t believe you actually posted one of these; I was far too chicken to do it myself. As far as I can recall, you had medium-brown hair and you were wearing a black shirt with a big white circle on it under a black cardigan. Your umbrella was all scrunched up in the crook of your arm, but I’m pretty sure it had some sort of pattern on it. You’re right, I was pretending not to be cold and you were pretending to be calm, as if I could forget.

 

If this is you, I wish I’d talked to you in person but I too am very socially awkward and rather clumsy as well. If this is you, this is my second-chance hello.

 

If this isn’t you, sorry, hope your day goes well regardless.

 

Best,

 

  * do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers




 

Dan cannot process this. He rereads it over and over. The fourth reread yields the clue that the guy had almost signed his name but had thought better of it, as per the unnecessary comma after “best”. As for the rest of it, he doesn’t know what to make of any of it. He really hadn’t intended for anyone else to see his post, much less the actual person he had written it about. He places his laptop next to him on the couch, still open but at least mostly out of his line of sight.

 

\---

 

At 2:30am, Dan throws aside his Xbox controller and picks up his laptop again. He’s driven by something electric, something akin to creative inspiration that strikes at just as inconvenient a time. It’s that horrible, restless quality of late nights that compels him to craft a reply _right then_ , and he types without thinking too hard about it. He decides that for this late at night, it’s satisfactory, and he sends it off.

 

**Re: Re: Missed connection: mismatched socks on the Jubilee line - m4m**

 

You’ve definitely got the right person. The umbrella was patterned with little stars. I accept your second-chance hello and offer one of my own.

 

I’m Dan. I like the internet, TV, and movies a lot. and you?

 

  * do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers




 

The reply is almost instant.

 

**Re: Re: Re: Missed connection: mismatched socks on the Jubilee line - m4m**

 

Hi, Dan!

 

Second-chance hello accepted; acquaintance initiated!  My name’s Phil, I too love the internet. So much so that i spend a rather distressing amount of time on it. XD I also like TV and movies, sometimes more than having a social life, if i’m to be honest.

 

I see you’re a night owl like me lol. What’s keeping you up?

 

x

 

  * do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers




  
  
They trade masked emails until about 4:30, at which point Phil asks Dan for his actual email address so that they can keep a manageable thread going. This charms Dan a little, as he would prefer to keep their correspondence organized. He realizes Phil’s email address has to be a relic from his early teens so he feels less bad about his own puberty-driven Gmail account. Amazingphil@gmail.com is like, slightly worse than danisnotonfire@gmail.com, he reasons. Either way, he falls asleep waiting for Phil's next email under the blanket on the couch. The game menu music for Halo still plays softly, forgotten in the background.


	3. we can talk it so good, we can make it so divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _we can talk it good, how you wish it would be all the time_ "
> 
> Brunch, and also texting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with 1000% more louise, as it fucking should be
> 
> questions? comments? drop me a line here or on [tumblr](http://newyorkeyeschicagothighs.tumblr.com).
> 
> title from ribs by lorde

On Sunday, the sound of Dan’s phone alarm reminds him that he has to get to brunch with Louise.  _ Who the fuck actually goes to brunch _ , Dan contemplates as he finally stops hitting the snooze button. He starts imagining himself standing over him in bed, yelling at him.  _ Are you a wuss? _

 

“I am not a wuss!” He responds out loud to…himself, he supposes, as that sounds preferable to "the voice in his head". While yelling this mantra, Dan launches himself out of bed at a decent clip. He bobs his head as he brushes his teeth, mildly pleased at himself for actually seizing the day or whatever and not being horrifically behind schedule for once in his life. His phone pings as he spits into the sink and he swipes over to read the message. 

 

**Re: Hey! This is my actual email**

 

I’m so sorry about last night! I fell asleep mid-email and ended up pressing a very long string of qqqqqqqqq whilst passed out. It was horrific, so I deleted it and decided to email you fresh this morning. how are you? 

 

x 

phil

 

Dan smiles brightly, having forgotten in the midst of his morning routine that he was in fact awaiting a reply from Phil. 

 

**Re: Re: Hey! This is my actual email**

 

omg, you should have led with the qqqqqqq. good stuff. i’m all right, about to head to brunch with a friend. mind if we switch to texting? 

 

yrs,

dan

 

Dan adds his phone number after “texting” and regrets this as soon as it’s sent. He just admitted to Sexy Tube Stranger (he has to think of a better title for Phil) that he is going to  _ brunch _ . What kind of posh twat is he going to take Dan for? Before he has a chance to take the mortified introspection further, his phone emits a different tone--it’s a text from an unknown number that Dan knows is Phil’s. 

 

**Phil:** qqqqqqqqqqqqq. jk, hey! love brunch, great excuse to eat as much breakfast food as humanly possible and not have to make it yourself. hope you have fun!

 

Dan smiles at this and catches himself doing so in the mirror. He instantly reverts into self-hatred mode: that look on his face was far too fond. Oh god. He finishes his bathroom routine and turns his hair straightener on while he replies. 

 

**Dan:** oh yeah, those q’s :P gotta love loads of pancakes. how’re you? 

 

Phil replies while Dan is straightening his hair. Dan picks out a shirt and puts it on before reading it. 

 

**Phil:** not bad! just woke up lol. have a quick q for you: what do you like best, roller skating, going to the cinema, or going to the aquarium? 

 

Dan’s pulse picks up as he thinks it over. As he grabs his keys and other leaving-the-house necessities, he realises exactly what Phil is getting at. He grabs his umbrella and considers the options as he descends the stairs from his flat. 

 

It’s still raining bloody fucking murder, and this time Dan hails a cab instead of contending with the Underground. Once he tells the driver the address of the restaurant, he turns his attention to responding to Phil. 

 

**Dan:** am bloody uncoordinated, so roller skating is probably not a good idea for me. always like the cinema, but haven’t been to the aquarium in forever soooo probably aquarium

 

**Phil:** coffee it is then? 

 

Dan laughs out loud and the cabbie blessedly doesn’t react. Dan wants to melt into the upholstery of the seats but does his best to compartmentalize his shame in favor of responding to Phil. 

 

**Dan:** only if you buy me a fuckin venti frappe-whatever 

 

**Phil:** i think i’d rather hang out with sharks, tbh. XD jk, would you like to go to the aquarium with me sometime? 

 

Dan is a grinning mess. He hates himself for behaving like a fucking teenager but not quite enough to stop. 

 

**Dan:** absolutely i’d love to! 

The cab stops and Dan overtips the driver. He heads into the cute little restaurant, all shades of peachy orange in contrast to the gloomy, ever-present London drizzle. 

 

**Phil:** Excellent :D :D i have to go, tesco calls. haven’t been shopping in forever

 

**Dan:** same, brunch is upon me. oh god me neither thanks for reminding me to stop at tesco later :P

 

**Phil:** lol you’re welcome ttyl

 

\---

 

Louise is doing well and looks it. She positively glows when she’s discussing Darcy’s latest interests and habits. 

 

“She’s super into unicorns right now. But not like, fairy tale unicorns, right, like the kind that you’d ride into battle. She’s apparently writing a book, all in crayon mind you, about a princess that rides a unicorn and jousts with its horn.” 

 

“Wouldn’t that hurt the--” Dan starts before he can stop himself. Louise cackles. 

 

“Daniel, you’re adorable. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” 

 

“I certainly will. Adorable is not necessarily my preferred descriptor, Louise.” 

 

“Excuse me?! How dare you. I will call you adorable as I see fit, as I’m your…” She drops off as she realizes she has actually no claim to being a relative. She pauses and then her face lights up. “Best friend! I am your best friend, there we are.” 

 

Dan laughs heartily. He needed this brunch, whether he'd admit it to himself or not that he needed anything connected to the word brunch whatsoever. He's missed Louise. Certainly she's been busy with Darcy and with her moderate fame as London’s new lifestyle and decor guru, but he is desperately glad that they haven't lost touch. He finds himself vocalizing this without thinking about it. 

 

“I've really missed you.” 

 

“And I you, Daniel.” Louise grins and holds her mimosa glass out for Dan to clink his against. He does and they both sip the fruity drink and laugh. 

 

“So, anyone in your life at the mo?” Louise asks, faux-nonchalantly. 

 

“Smooth, Lou. Very smooth.” Dan can't help smiling fondly at her technique, but Louise mistakes it for a “thinking-about-bae” smile, because her entire face lights up. 

 

“So there IS someone!” She practically shouts. Dan is scandalized and looks around the small restaurant where people are either curiously glancing in their direction or studiously avoiding doing just that. They look at each other and burst out laughing, possibly just making the situation more uncomfortable rather than ameliorating anything. Despite discomfort, this is their comfort zone-- the uncontrollable laughter in reaction to an awkward moment. They both love and hate this about each other, and it was the catalyst for their friendship in the very beginning. 

 

“Louise, for Christ’s sake.” Dan says, laughter still in his voice. 

 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” Louise says through the hand over her mouth to stop the giggles. “But seriously, is there someone?” She removes her hand and Dan debates it for all of two seconds before deciding fuck it and telling her everything. 

 

“Yeah, actually. I… Oh, God, this sounds totally crazy, but I met him on the Tube. Well, I didn't really meet him on the Tube, I… Didn't meet him there.” 

 

“You are making even less sense than usual; how many mimosas have you had?” Louise looks puzzled, perfect eyebrows quirked up into higher arches. 

 

“No, I mean, I… This is so stupid.” Dan pauses to facepalm at himself. “I posted one of those missed connection things to Craigslist and he replied.” He holds his breath when he bites out the last word. Louise's expression flits from confusion to clarity to taken-aback to pure delight in less time than a car takes to get from naught to sixty. 

 

“Daniel, that is disgustingly, nauseatingly cute and I love it. Tell me more.” She leans forward, captivated. 

 

“Oh god, I was worried there for a second. I thought you were hardcore judging me.” 

 

“Excuse me, none of that, spill.” Louise is having precisely none of Dan’s distraction tactics. 

 

“Ugh, fine. His name is Phil and he's got black hair--I think he dyes it--and blue eyes. He was dressed in a lot of bright, clashy colours. He loves TV and the Internet and video games; he loves the old Sonic games and anime and-- he's taking me to the Aquarium soon.” He realizes he's been talking too much about this and stops himself. 

 

“That is brilliant!” Louise claps her hands together, pleased as punch. Dan knows she's mostly happy because he's been especially hermit-like of late, but he suspects she's too polite to admit she's excited because Dan hasn't been on an actual date in forever. Like, in three years. “I'm so proud of you!” 

 

“Thanks,  _ mum _ .” Dan leans heavy on the sarcasm but he can't help ducking his head and smiling because Louise is one of those people that you desperately want to be proud of you. He feels lucky every time she throws affection his way, as he's not really sure what he's bringing to the table in their relationship aside from a higher potential yield of awkward situations that they can cringe about together later. 

  
They wax poetic about said awkward encounters, drink precisely two and a half mimosas, and fall into a cab together, slightly tipsy and headed for Dan’s apartment to play video games and chat more. Dan hasn’t felt this good in a long time. 


End file.
